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The stage lights are bright and blinding and I hold my hand up to see past them. Around me, protests and shocked noises rise.
“Hey, what the fuck!”
“Jade, what are you doing?”
“Jade?”
“Excuse me, you can’t?—”
“Is she?—”
“Jade McKinn?—”
“Ian?” I say, projecting my voice over everyone else’s.
The theater goes silent. Not even the director interrupts me. I may have shocked everyone into a momentary silence, but it isn’t going to last. I have to capitalize on it, and quickly.
“Ian, if you’re up in the booth, I hope you’re listening because I have something I have to tell you.”
“So important that you interrupted rehearsal?” the actor playing Lysander asks, clearly annoyed.
“Yes, fuck off,” I snap at him, my voice low enough so only he and the people in the immediate area can hear. Someone inhales sharply. Someone else snorts.
Ian hasn’t said anything yet and now I’m worried Madison was wrong. Maybe he isn’t here. Or maybe he’s just waiting for me. I’m running out of time to act, though, so it’s now or never.
“Ian, I’m sorry. Everything you said about me after the one-acts was right. I . . . I was scared. I AM scared. I like you. A lot. Like . . . more than I’ve ever liked anyone. And maybe it’s love?—”
A few people gasp around me. I hear at least three people “Awww.” The stage manager, positioned in the audience with director Adam Litsey, starts to stand, probably to protest, but Adam sets his hand on the stage manager’s arm and they sit back down.
“Maybe it’s not, I don’t know,” I continue. “I probably should know—this is a fucking grand gesture, after all, and I know in movies it’s always ‘I love you’ and ‘I need you’ and ‘I can’t live without you’ and I don’t know if it’s love, and I could probably live without you, but I sure as hell don’t want to.”
The audience lights come up and I drop my hand, able to see past the bright stage lights. There’s still no sign of Ian, unless the lights coming up are the sign. No one is pushing me off the stage yet, so I press on.
“So um, now that I’ve interrupted rehearsal, if you’re there and you want to talk, I’ll be in the lobby.”
I turn to go, avoiding eye contact with everyone. I feel a little like throwing up and a lot like getting the hell out of here. I’m only in the wings when I hear the actors on stage start to gasp. I turn and see a few people pointing into the audience.
“Jade,” Dallas says, stopping me in my tracks. I turn back, walking out onto the stage again, and see Ian descending the steps, coming down from the booth.
“All right everyone, let’s take five,” the director says, but the only person moving is Ian, walking closer to the stage, closer to me.
My heart hammers in my chest. My palms start to sweat.
“I said let’s take five,” the director says again and claps a couple of times. There’s a chorus of “Thank you, Five” fromeveryone and this time people scatter, leaving me alone on stage until Ian joins me.
“Hi,” I say. He’s arm’s length away from me, but I wish he’d stand closer. It’s one of those moments where a little bit of physical contact could go a long way.
“Hi,” he says. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
“Your lights look good,” I say.
“Didn’t know you were a fan of my work,” he says.
“Huge fan.”
“That’s what you came for? To see my lights?” He’s got a knowing smirk on his face.
“Did you miss my grand declaration? Where I admitted in front of the whole cast and crew ofMidsummerthat I have feelings for you?”
